In Vino Veritas
by VanBlundHt
Summary: Lonely and miserable after breaking up with Maris, Niles tries to dull the pain with alcohol. Will copious amounts of wine give him the courage to finally tell Daphne how he feels? Everyone loves feedback!


**In Vino Veritas**

_You are my girl and you don't even know it_

_I am living out the life of a poet_

_I am the jester in the ancient court_

_And you're the funny little frog in my throat _(Belle and Sebastian)

Niles Crane poured himself another glass of wine. Might as well finish the bottle, he figured. Tipping the last of its contents into the goblet and sighing deeply, he raised the glass to his lips and emptied it in one gulp. Frasier had gone to bed hours ago. It had been good of him to let him stay the night. Again. He was a good brother. And how was Niles repaying him? By polishing off his finest bottle of '82 Merlot. Still, loathe as he was to admit it, he had needed something to numb the pain. Maris was leaving him.

_His Maris. _

He leaned back on the soft suede cushions of the couch. His head felt heavy and for some reason, his neck didn't seem strong enough to support its weight anymore. The walls were starting to spin slightly. He closed his eyes and massaged his temples in slow, soothing circles. He suspected he would have quite a headache in the morning. Had he really trashed the Montana? Had he really worn _jeans? _It wasn't real. None of it was real. He would wake up in the morning and he would be at home in his own bed, in his own home and all of this would be just some silly dream he would share anecdotally with Maris across the breakfast table. She would nibble at her stick of organic celery and smile vaguely. He would play Mahler on the piano. Everything would be normal.

Except nothing was normal. His marriage, his hopes for the future, his life - it had all fallen apart. Good Lord, his head was already starting to pound. Niles could feel the wine coursing through his veins, making him feel flushed. He had loosened his tie and opened his shirt collar earlier. Now he removed them altogether, glad to be rid of their rumpled, sweaty confines, their associations with the life he use to have. As he shrugged the once crisp Armani shirt off his shoulders, Niles felt as if he was shedding his skin. Now what? He would go out onto the balcony. Yes, that's what he would do. He would go out there and cool down awhile, clear his head.

It was strange, feeling so full and so empty at the same time. The alcohol had dulled his senses but still, he had a feeling he was terribly upset about something. What was it though? Oh yes, Maris. The ingrate. All those years he had spent waiting on her hand and foot, trying to please her, letting her emasculate him to the point of degradation, and for what? For kind words that never came? For affection that had to be bought? For nothing, that was what. It was all for nothing…

But oh, he didn't mean that. He didn't mean it! How would he live without his Maris? She was his whole life! What would he do without her? Niles found himself hurriedly wiping away a tear with the back of his hand. He wouldn't cry.

Niles never cried.

As he stumbled across the living room floor, toward the balcony doors that looked out across the magnificent Seattle skyline, Niles thought of nothing except how he was going to suffocate if he didn't go outside instantly. Opening the doors with as little noise as he could manage, he stepped outside into the night. The cool autumn air filled his lungs with glorious oxygen and he concentrated on breathing it in deeply. He had felt sleepy inside. Now he felt invigorated. Alive. For a few minutes he simply stood and existed in the physical space that his slender form occupied. Eventually, it struck him that it was colder than he had originally thought. His skin had dimpled and the hair on his arms stood to attention. A sharp breeze tousled his fine hair. Involuntarily, he shivered and brought his arms around himself. It was such a strange night. Such a sad, strange night.

He felt calmer now and his thoughts turned to Daphne. Sweet, beautiful Daphne. Even as he stood shirtless and shivering on his brother's balcony, the mere thought of her warmed him up. She was…a goddess. Why was it that he could never find a better word to describe her? She with her rich chestnut curls and creamy skin and innumerable quirks. She was everything Maris wasn't - warm, giving, kind. The irony didn't escape him.

But he loved them both.

At least he thought he did. His love for Maris was…complicated. He carried a picture of the perfect marriage in his mind. One that he had tried tirelessly to create with Maris for twelve long years. Ever hopeful. Ever giving. Ever eager to accept the meagre affections she absently sent his way. He had laboured on this quest of his, clinging steadfastly to his rose-tinted glasses, nursing every smile, every touch like a marooned islander nursing a wisp of smoke in the hope that it would be the beginnings of a great fire. Now, twelve years on, Niles was forced to admit defeat. He had failed.

He leaned out over the railings, resting his forearms on the cool metal. How easy it would be to slip away on a night like this, climb over a railing and drop silently to a cement pavement a dozen floors below. It would be over in a heartbeat. And he would hurt no more. Inwardly, he flashed upon an image of Frasier, picturing how his brother had once stood at the edge of existence, probably on a night much like this one. He didn't talk about it much and Niles didn't force the issue. No, he wouldn't jump. Still, it was morbidly comforting to know that the possibility was there. The solemn lifeline of death.

As a psychiatrist, he knew these feelings would pass. That over the course of time, his life would regain a semblance of normality. Marriages ended every day and the world kept turning. His would be just one more piece of idle gossip to be tossed around by the socialite vultures he had so hopefully called friends. Until some other poor fool fell on hard times and they flapped around his misfortune instead. He would be cast aside, left to pick up the pieces of his broken life. Yesterday's news.

He leaned back in and feeling nauseated now that the mixture of cold air and alcohol was starting to hit home, he wavered on the spot momentarily and then started to feel his way slowly back into the apartment. Standing outside, he had felt a surge of freedom, of reckless possibility, but as the walls closed in around him, the burden of reality weighed heavy on his shoulders once more. The couch beckoned to him and he fell into it gracelessly, landing facedown on its coffee-coloured softness. Rolling himself over with difficulty, and groaning slightly with the effort, he stared up at the inky nothingness of the ceiling. His eyes had not yet readjusted to the dark.

Daphne…she was sleeping peacefully just a few strides away across the apartment. So near and yet so far. Niles knew enough about Greek and Roman mythology to know that mortals who got involved with the Gods never came off the better for it. But she had arrived at such a strange time in his life. He and Maris had been having problems and suddenly, there she was like a beacon in the night, a little ray of warmth that drove him to pop in on his brother more often than was strictly necessary. At first he had convinced himself that his fixation with Daphne was merely a psychological distraction, something to help him avoid dealing with his marital problems. Then he had told himself that it was just a harmless flirtation. He was after all, a man. What red-blooded male could resist her wholesome English charm? But in his heart of hearts, Niles knew that his feelings for Daphne went far beyond physical longing. He had fallen for her the moment he saw her. In this very room in fact. He had paraded himself in front of her like a peacock displaying its plumes, desperate to impress. He had been pompous, over-excited, adoring. And she had been, as she remained to this day, polite, cheerful…and oblivious.

Could Heaven and Hell exist in the same time and space? Could it be that they were creatures so similar that to know one was to know the other? That to try to disentwine them would be to separate air into its various components - making it toxic, unbreathable? It didn't seem fair. Each time he looked at Daphne, his heart split in three; the first part stayed with Maris, loyal, guilty. The second offered itself to Daphne with pure, unwavering love. The third part, bruised and aching, beat hollow in his chest, knowing that for all he loved, precious little was returned.

Niles ran a hand across his tired eyes and over the stubble he had neglected to shave, what felt like eons ago. He was past caring. So long as he was caught in this otherworldly dimension of moving walls and notquitethereness, he didn't have to face...any of it. All he wanted right now was to think nothing. Feel nothing. Be nothing. And to sleep. _Sleep_. Already his eyelids were growing heavy. Maris was leaving him. He was lonely. Daphne was so very beautiful…

--------

"Ooh, you had quite the little party last night, didn't you Dr. Crane? Better not let Dr. Crane see that empty wine bottle, he'll have your guts for garters! Ballantines! My my, I daresay Mr. Crane won't be too chuffed with you either! Still, you've been through a lot these past few days, I'm sure they'll understand."

_Hmm…?_

"Let's get all this cleared away, shall we?

_Essence of persimmon and pomegranate…_

"Your father's taken Eddie for a walk. He should be back any minute now. Shall I fix you a spot of breakfast? Nothing cures a hangover like a good English fry up, you know. Couple of rashers, big slice of pudding. My brothers swear by it. Course they'd know all about hangover cures, the bloody drunkards. The number of times I had to step over Simon just to get into the bathroom of a Sunday morning…"

Somewhere far away, Niles could hear the sound of busy footsteps buzzing about the room, the creaking of patio doors being pulled back, the hissing of the kettle, the distant twitter of birdsong…

Forcing his eyes open, he struggled to make sense of the room. His vision was blurry. His throat was dry. What had happened last night? And why was he at Frasier's? What…? Suddenly, and with startling intensity, the memory of why he had lulled himself into a drunken stupor came flooding back to him in nauseating waves. Oh God, he was going to be sick…

Hurtling haphazardly across the room, Niles made it to the bathroom just in time. He fell to his knees, retching violently until his insides felt sore.

"Dr. Crane!"

Daphne had come running.

"Oh dear, are you alright Dr. Crane?" she asked gently, kneeling down beside him. "Better out than in, I say."

She stroked his hair. _Why must she torture him so..?_

"Why don't you come back and lie down on the settee and I'll get you a nice glass of water."

"Oh Daphne…"

"Shhh now, take a deep breath, it'll be alright."

At that moment, Niles saw himself as if from a distance, a pathetic figure, a dishevelled mess sprawled on someone else's bathroom floor. A lonely, broken shell of a man. So this was what the much bally-hooed _Rock Bottom _felt like.

He looked up, not quite meeting Daphne's concerned gaze.

"Daphne, I…I'm sorry you've had to see me like this."

"There there, Dr. Crane", she murmured softly, rocking him back and forth in her arms. "No need to apologise. No need at all."

They seemed to stay like that for a long time, Niles cradled in Daphne's warm embrace, too miserable to enjoy the experience, too restrained to pull her closer to him. Still, he lay in her arms, thinking everything and nothing all at once, vaguely aware of the fact that this was probably as close as he was ever going to get to intimacy with his beloved.

Shifting slightly, Daphne ran her hand lightly down the side of his face and at last, Niles brought his eyes up to meet hers. There was understanding there. Sympathy. Fondness. But what else? _What else? _The moment lingered. Somewhat abruptly, Daphne broke eye contact.

"Let's get you up off this floor." she said briskly. "You could probably eat your dinner off it but let's not take any chances, eh?"

Niles smiled weakly and let her lead him back into the living room, arm draped around her shoulder. He was suddenly very aware that he was half naked. Had his chest always been so hairy?

"There you go" she said, helping lower him onto the couch.

"Now you just sit there while I fetch you some water. Daphne will have you feeling right as rain in a jiffy. Don't you worry."

Niles watched as she disappeared into the kitchen. The nausea had subsided and he felt the beginnings of shame permeate his consciousness. He had made such a tremendous fool of himself. What must she think of him? He put his head in his hands. Niles hadn't had a hangover since that time in college when he'd gotten too enthusiastic at an impromptu wine-tasting soiree in the dormitory where tasting had turned to, he believed the phrase was _"knocking back" _a variety of alcoholic beverages. After that, he had vowed never to let himself lose control like that again. Now here he was, years later with the same unquenchable thirst, the same scratchy vocal chords, the same regret. It wouldn't do. He had to pull himself together. So lost was he in his humiliation and despair that Daphne reappeared in front of him without him noticing.

"Drink that." she said in her most Mother Hen-like tone, a tumbler of cool tap water in her outstretched hand. "You'll feel much better for it. I've brought you a couple of Aspirin as well. I imagine you'll be glad of them." she chuckled.

"Yes. Indeed", he admitted sheepishly and received both with thanks. His shame was growing by the minute and he unconsciously reached for his shirt and pulled it sheet-like across his bare chest. His bleary eyes followed her as she pottered about the living room and even in his state, he admired the grace with which she moved around the room, weaving in and out of the furniture in an elegant dance, like a butterfly flitting from flower to flower. It soothed him.

Suddenly resolved to put the previous night's misadventure behind him, Niles made to stand up and head for the shower but as he did so, his legs buckled beneath him and spots appeared in front of his eyes. He dropped back down onto the couch and sighed, his newfound resolve ebbing away like water in cupped hands.

"Would you like a cup of tea, Dr. Crane? I've just made a brew."

"What? Oh. No. No thank you Daphne."

Looking over at him, Daphne stopped what she was doing, came over and sat next to him. She took his hand and held it in her lap.

"You know Dr. Crane, my Grammy Moon had a phrase she used to use when any of us were going through hard times. "It's always darkest before the sun rises" is what she used to say. And she was right you know. I know it probably doesn't feel like that now but things _will_ get better."

Niles looked at her and smiled.

"Bless you Daphne."

Again they sat, hand in hand, in a pose that to a stranger, would have looked like that of a perfectly normal couple. Was it really so implausible? So impossible? So insane to think that she could ever see him as anything other than a devoted friend? Niles wasn't a fool. He knew she was, how was it the hip young people put it - _out of his league, _but dammit, he worshipped her! He could give her everything! He would love her till the day the last breath left his body!

Overcome with the same sense of reckless possibility he had felt on the balcony the night before, Niles threw caution to the wind, turned to Daphne and took her hand more tightly.

"Daphne!" he said, a sense of urgency in his voice. He had to say it! He had to say it before he lost his nerve!

"Yes, Dr. Crane?" She looked at him expectantly.

"Daphne I…" He faltered. "I…"

Time stood still. What was she thinking? Had she realised his intentions? Had she finally noticed the heart he wore just beneath his sleeve? Was she about to throw her arms around him and say; "I feel the same way Niles! I always have!" Or was she about to let him down gently, look at him with those concerned brown eyes, face full of empathy and even pity? Was she about to laugh at him? No she wouldn't do that. She was too kind, too mindful of the feelings of others. Oh, the life they could have! He would take care of her and give her all the fine things she deserved and smell her hair and touch her skin and they would have the perfect marriage! The perfect marriage… Maris. Somehow, he had managed to entirely forget his wife these last minutes, sitting with Daphne and the realisation hit him full force. What was he doing? What was he saying?

Suddenly the doorbell rang.

"Ooh, that's probably Mr. Crane. He must have forgotten his key, silly beggar. What is it you wanted to say to me?

"Daphne I…"

The words caught in his throat. He couldn't say them. The moment had passed and the timing was all wrong. He was still a married man, for God's sake. Technically at least. Had he taken leave of his senses? He wasn't even wearing a shirt. And Daphne, she deserved more than a mid-morning declaration of love from a semi-clad, semi-drunk, semi-married man. She deserved so much more. Niles felt like a balloon that that been blown too full of air, then suddenly deflated. He felt wilted, empty and sore. He was still…very much alone in the world.

"Yes, Dr. Crane?" She was still looking patiently at him. He had to say something.

"Daphne I…I…"

_I love you…_

"Thank you for taking care of me." He wondered sadly if his eyes betrayed him.

Her face unreadable, she looked at him a moment and then smiled warmly. "I'll always take care of you Dr. Crane."

"I know you will Daphne."

His eyes never left her as she went to answer the door, walking away from him.

THE END


End file.
